A/N: Dear readers: I apologize for the grammatical errors in the last chapter! There weren't many, but they bothered me, so I fixed them. I also had Hermione singing a song that wouldn't have been released onto an album until 2006! This story is set in 1999. I felt like a jackass for that as well, so that is now also fixed. So here's this chapter, which is a little longer than the last, and I read over multiple times before posting. Thank you for your continued support.

Chapter 9

Hermione knocked the snow off of her boots on the snowless stairs, before she ironed her will to walk through the double doors and right past the tall blonde. She still wasn't sure if she should acknowledge or ignore him. She wasn't too keen on the idea of being so indecisive. Usually the urge to pretend he didn't exist was an easy choice.

She was starting to wonder if there was something actually wrong with her. Did she need the infirmary like he'd asked the night before? She wasn't "alright" was she?

"This is for you," he said quickly, before she could disappear. He held the letter out, right up to touch her left arm, and she froze to look down and over at it. On the front, in Harry's lazy script, was "To Mione", and just below that, "From H + R".

"Or so I'm guessing... 'Mione," the Slytherin added, a playful tinge to his tone as he spoke her nickname.

She looked up at him with a glare while simultaneously reaching out to snatch the letter from his hand with lightning quick reflexes, which surprised him. His near-black brows were lifted high, and he tilted his head to the side with a sly yet tiny smirk as he said, "That was an impressive display there, Granger. I'd say that was seeker-worthy speed."

Hermione gave him a wry, sarcastic smile, and said, "I had to learn to be quicker and quicker last year. To avoid getting struck by Nagini and caught by Snatchers. I was getting good, to have avoided that last fate for as long as I did. There was this one particularly unfortunate time that my speed didn't matter when it came down to it, and I was forced into the company of the most deplorable people."

She said this last bit on purpose, with one desired effect: to shock him into a silence long enough for her to make it down the stairs to the kitchen.

The Gryffindor didn't make it but two steps, though, before she was stopped in her tracks by him saying, "I found the letter in the great hall. At the Ravenclaw table, along with our lunch. The house elves are going to be serving meals there for us from now on. Might as well come eat it, or their hard work will be for nothing."

She wanted to punch his face while asking him what he was playing at. He knew she wasn't fond of this idea, both the prospect of the house elves putting in extra work and that she'd be sharing a table with him. She inhaled deeply, because she now needed to think further into ways to avoid Draco before she went insane and finally killed him.

"What are you playing at?" she asked with a snap, and he became confused and defensive at the question.

"What? I'm not playing at anything. I… I just figured you wouldn't want the house elves to go through all of that work for nothing. You're an advocate, and all of that, aren't you?" He said all of this easily, in a believable manner that made Hermione's glare soften. "Besides," he added quickly as he undoubtedly watched her defenses drop, "if you hate it so much, I'm sure you could tell them to go back to doing it the way they have been."

She considered this and gave a single nod before she pushed past him and walked into the great hall where, just as he'd said, a small yet impressive spread sat at the Ravenclaw table, it being one of the two tables closest to the doors. At said table were two settings, one of which was already in use, and the other, the one closest to the exit, was empty and waiting for her.

With unease in her slow steps, she made it to her spot, putting her letter in her pack to read later when she was alone and comfortable. Draco, with his long legs, made it back to his spot first, and he resumed his eating while simultaneously grabbing up the charms book from earlier that had been sitting out of sight on the bench beside him. He set it on the table next to his plate and opened it up before he started perusing, no longer paying Hermione mind. And it was a good thing, too, because she probably would have been angry if he kept trying to talk to her.

He was already acting friendly enough, enough to arouse suspicion in her. A more than normal amount of suspicion. He'd said he hadn't been playing at anything, and she didn't believe it for a second.

The witch settled in cautiously either way, sure to take her wand from her cloak as she took the garment off and set it atop her pack. She then took her wand from her pocket and set it between her thigh and the bench for quick access. She then served herself up a hearty lunch of soup and sandwiches, her eyes glancing at Draco every few seconds to be sure he was still busy reading, rather than paying her the particular attention he had been that day.

Ten or so minutes passed where his eyes didn't leave his book, the man seeming to have forgotten how to eat, only for him to suddenly look up at her and ask, "Have you heard something about needing volume two of this set? It wasn't on my book list. Only volume one."

Hermione suppressed a groan. But not a large one, because he'd made it longer than she'd originally thought he would. He did talk to her, though, so she began to load her plate with foods she could eat for dinner, her plan to not return later, so as to avoid having any other odd dining experiences with him.

"I've had enough of this. I'll be asking the house elves to leave my plate in the kitchen, because you're playing at something and I'm not going to join you. I'm going to Gryffindor. It seems the only place I can be where you're not around to bother me endlessly," she stated gruffly, standing and grabbing her effects and her plate.

"I guess I'll be seeing you in the library in the morning, then?" he asked, knowing his question would irk her after her outburst. At least the cunning smirk she looked up to see implied he was taking some joy from it, and she scowled deeper before turning and leaving.

"Oh. I'm sure of it, Malfoy," she replied sarcastically over her shoulder, knowing damn well she was going to be doing all she could to avoid him from there on out. "Same bat-time, same bat-channel."